


letting go

by itsfromjapaAAAAAAAN (alex_marie1324)



Series: letting go 'verse [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Anger, Angst, Arguing, Betrayal, Cheating, Cigarettes, Extended Metaphors, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Metaphors, Sadness, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 18:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14575218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_marie1324/pseuds/itsfromjapaAAAAAAAN
Summary: if you're letting go,let me go slowly.if you're letting go,lay me down softly.





	letting go

**Author's Note:**

> [song inspo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1pegmtJNzOM)
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> originally posted on [my amino](http://aminoapps.com/p/gd5tcv)

_glass tabletop for two,_  
_shatters across the room,_

A glass cup practically flies across the room. It’s almost majestic, Jeremy thinks for a moment, an inanimate object seeming to have life. 

That is until it shatters against a wall and breaks the fragile moment Jeremy was living in before. The shards spread and seem to fly now, outwards from the point of impact, before gravity returns to the situation and everything falls. 

It seems to happen in slow motion. 

_it’s been this way, it stays this way since june._

Jeremy knows it’s his fault. From the yelling, to the crying, to the broken glass. It was his doing. 

He wishes he had a time machine. To go back, to pull the glass shards of the cup back together in the same slow motion, just reversed. 

_gravity pulls me in,_  
_further from my skin._

He steps outside into the rain. He doesn’t have a coat, or an umbrella. All he wants to think about is how he needs a new cup. So he goes to the store and buys one. 

It doesn’t seem to fill the hole in his cupboard left behind by the broken cup. 

_i run but my feet don't touch the ground._

He cleans up the glass shards after Michael’s gone. For some reason, it hurts more to throw the pile- settled on a dustpan- into the trash than it did to see Michael throw it. For some reason, none of the scathing words Michael threw along with it- how could you? you fucking asshole, I can’t fucking believe you. I hate you- hurt nearly as much as his chest hurts as he uses the vacuum to suck up the last of the glass remnants. 

_if you're letting go,_  
_let me go slowly._

He knows it’s the finality of it. You can’t un-break a glass. You can glue the pieces back together, but it will always be broken. The cracks will always show, the slight green tint to the ridged edges that somehow still fit together. But never perfectly. And no glue is permanent. 

And the suddenness of it. He knew it was coming when he admitted to what he’d done, but something about it seemed to come out of nowhere. There was no time to slowly let go of everything, it was broken just as quickly as the flying cup. 

_if you're letting go,_  
_lay me down softly._

Jeremy’s back presses against the cool sheets of Jake’s bed. They trade heated kisses and feverish touch, as if they can’t get enough of each other. They’re intoxicated with each other. 

There’s no logic in Jeremy’s mind. He doesn’t even need alcohol to cloud his judgement, Jake’s mouth on his neck is enough to make him feel drunk. 

It’s not until the next morning it begins to register with him what he’d done. But that doesn’t stop him from coming back to Jake’s room more and more. 

_smoked out the back room,_  
_to get rid of the scent of you._

Michael breathes out, long and steady. The smoke curls up towards the ceiling. He wants to be the smoke, for a moment. He wants to just float upwards with a care. It curls around him, too. Holding him close and comfortable. 

He’s never been one for cigarettes, typically preferring weed for its less addictive relaxation. But right now he needs something rough. He needs something unfamiliar to his lungs so it can scratch and tear out his breath so he can’t cry anymore. 

_i’ve been this way, i stay this way since june._

He finds himself taking up cigarettes. A bad habit, he knows, but he almost wants his lungs to turn black like they show in those surgeon general ads. 

He wants his heart to turn black with smoke and anger. Anger is so much easier to feel than sadness. Once the glass left his hand and the words left his mouth, the anger left his soul. And he was left with a cold shell of sadness and smoke. 

_if you're letting go,_  
_let me go slowly._

Michael flicks the ash off the burning end of the cigarette. It lands on his floor, but he couldn’t give less of a shit. His apartment is a mess anyway, the cigarette ashes are like the sprinkles on top of the fucked up cupcake that is his life. 

Some twisted part of him wishes Jeremy never told him what he’d done. He wishes Jeremy would’ve just kept holding him. His arms were warm with lies. 

_if you're letting go,_  
_lay me down softly._

What was the worst to find out, Michael thinks, was that it happened more than once. It wasn’t a one-off mistake. It was several times. Several nights where Michael just /trusted/ that Jeremy was at work, or just hanging out with Jake. 

He never would’ve thought of what was actually going on. It never would’ve occurred to him to not believe Jeremy. 

_if you're letting go,_  
_let me go slowly._

And now he can’t seem to let go of it. There’s no closure in throwing a glass cup and shouting empty words of hatred. Half of what he said wasn’t untrue- Jeremy was asshole for doing that, Michael really did struggle to believe it- but the words ‘I hate you’ has left his mouth in the heat of the anger. 

But his heart said otherwise, forming the lump in his throat as he clawed his hair- digging his nails into his scalp, grounding himself in his own skin- and sobbed. 

_if you're letting go,_  
_lay me down softly._

Maybe it was the fact that Jeremy had little to say in response to Michael’s anger. Michael remembers saying a million things, but the absolute silence on Jeremy’s end reverberates louder in the echo chamber of Michael’s chest. 

Michael’s really not sure what he wanted Jeremy to say. But he knows the silence infuriated him more. His skin was screaming with the words ‘say something!’ But he knows if Jeremy had anything to say, it would’ve been an apology he did not want. 

He might want one now, though. He hasn’t decided. 

_if you're letting go,_  
_let me go slowly._

”M-Michael?” Jeremy approaches him outside of a bar. Michael’s smoking a cigarette. Jeremy’s never seen him smoke anything but weed, and only very occasionally. But the cigarette burns low and his eyes follow the motion as Michael drops and crushes the cigarette. 

”What,” Michael says, spitting the word out as he grabs his pack and takes another one out and lights it. He’s still using his lucky lighter. Jeremy thinks of the broken cup. 

”I- I just saw you out here and- and-“ Jeremy curses his stutter. It isn’t usually too bad, but it gets worse when he’s nervous. 

”And what, Jeremy? You wanted to, I dunno,” Michael flicks the cigarette angrily before bringing it back up to his lips and sucking on it. Jeremy watches the smoke as he exhales. “Give me some grand apology for everything you did and the- how long has it been?- four months that it’s taken for you to even come up with a half-assed apology.” 

With each word, Michael picks up the broken cup and drives the shards into Jeremy’s chest. And Jeremy knows he deserves it. 

”I- I don’t-“ 

Michael just sighs. Jeremy feels useless, like he’s trying to glue the cup back together but the pieces keep slipping and breaking into smaller shards. And Michael keeps using them to stab him. The puzzle is incomplete, the pieces are falling apart. 

”I... I am sorry,” Jeremy finally says. 

”I’m sure you are,” Michael says as he exhales smoke, breathing fire like a dragon ready to burn Jeremy up before he can reach the princess atop the tower. 

Michael’s never seemed so sharp. Jeremy was always the bonier one, angles and edges as his hip bones stuck out. Michael was always plush, soft. So easy to wrap his arms around. 

But Michael has no only lost weight, he’s lost the love in his personality. He’s exhaled it along with the cigarette smoke and inhaled the toxic chemicals, let them seep into his heart. 

Michael doesn’t say anything else. Jeremy doesn’t either. He looks down at the crushed cigarette and wonders how bad it’s gotten for Michael. But he knows he doesn’t have the right to that information, nor does he have the right to be worried. 

So he simply turns on his heel, twisting and crunching the bits of pavement under his feet, and walks away. He closes his eyes as he does, imagining Michael running to catch up with him, grabbing his shoulder and asking him to stay. 

But when he opens his eyes, the cold night air is all he’s greeted with. 

_glass tabletop for two,_  
_shatters across the room._

The glass was broken long before Michael threw it, Jeremy realizes as he stares at the replacement cup. It broke the moment his lips touched Jake’s. It cracked like Jake’s chapped lips. 

_its been this way, it stays this way since june._


End file.
